


Out of the Woods

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [95]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Injuries, Protective Arthur, Protectiveness, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 21:44:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13132827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: Even with Arthur’s help, Merlin was slow to pull himself together, blood pounding in his temples as he manoeuvred his reluctant body upright. He shouldn’t have bothered. As soon as he attempted to put weight on his left foot, a blinding pain shot through his leg and he crumpled back to the ground, a sudden explosion of multi-coloured lights whiting out his vision.“Ow,” he said, when he was conscious again. “I think I might have broken something.”





	Out of the Woods

 

 

“Merlin? Can you hear me?”

 

Arthur’s worried voice filtered slowly into Merlin's foggy brain, his upside-down face looming large in Merlin’s vision. It was fuzzy and a little out of focus, and Merlin blinked, trying to will his eyes to concentrate.

 

“Merlin. Say something.”

 

“Something,” Merlin said weakly, and he felt rather than heard Arthur’s choked laugh. The prince was holding him. Why was the prince holding him? “What happened?”

 

“You’re an idiot, that’s what happened,” Arthur said. “You lost control of your horse and took a nosedive right over a cliff. You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck.”

 

“Oh.” Merlin winced, moving his head experimentally. It was throbbing a bit—apparently he’d hit something solid on the way down—but at least it was still attached to his shoulders. “How long was I out?”

 

“Not very long.” The prince’s voice was deceptively light, but there was an edge to it that suggested it had been too long for comfort. His hand tightened on Merlin’s shoulder. “You got bashed around a bit, but you’ve a hard head, and there’s nothing bleeding. Well,” he amended. “Nothing important, anyway. You’ll be fine.”

 

Merlin snorted, but that made his head hurt some more, so he settled for frowning instead.

 

“I’m not sure I trust your idea of fine, sire,” he said. “Considering you’ve been known to go on fighting with several swords sticking out of your body.”

 

“You exaggerate,” Arthur said, though one corner of his lips quirked upward. “It was only one sword. And we’re not in the middle of a battle right now.”

 

“Says you.” Merlin held out a hand. “Help me up, please. I want to see where we are.”

 

Using Arthur as a crutch, he was able to lever himself into a sitting position. Everything hurt: his back, his head, his actual _elbows_ , which was not a sensation he particularly enjoyed. The world swam for a moment before righting itself, and he saw that they were at the bottom of a steep ravine. The horses were nowhere to be seen, and the stony ground was bare except for a few dry shrubs and a trickling creek that was wending its way between the rocks a few feet away. If Merlin had rolled a little further, he would have ended up in the water.

 

“Small mercies,” he murmured, but waved Arthur off when the prince leaned in to hear what he was saying. “It’s getting dark.”

 

“My father will have sent a patrol after us,” Arthur agreed. “Do you think you can stand? If we can get back to the top of the ridge, we should be easier for them to spot.”

 

“I’ll try,” Merlin said. Truth be told, he was still feeling a wee bit dizzy and a lot bruised, but there was no way he was going to mention that to Arthur. “Give me a minute.”

 

It took a lot longer than a minute. Even with Arthur’s help, Merlin was slow to pull himself together, blood pounding in his temples as he manoeuvred his reluctant body upright. He shouldn’t have bothered. As soon as he attempted to put weight on his left foot, a blinding pain shot through his leg and he crumpled back to the ground, a sudden explosion of multi-coloured lights whiting out his vision. 

 

“Ow,” he said, when he was conscious again. “I think I might have broken something.”

 

“No kidding,” Arthur said, coming back into view. His face was very white where it hovered above Merlin, and when he tried to prop himself up again, Arthur shoved him back onto the ground. “Just—stay there, idiot. Let me see.”

 

Merlin lay as still as he could while Arthur gently removed his boot. Even though he could tell the prince was trying to be careful, the smallest movement hurt, and Merlin gritted his teeth against the pain, droplets of sweat popping out unbidden on his forehead. He felt Arthur’s fingers take hold of the injured limb, probing at the joint, and couldn’t help letting out a small whimper of agony. Arthur let go of him immediately.

 

“I’m pretty sure it’s broken,” he said, sitting back on his haunches. “Gaius will be able to tell for certain, but in the meantime you’d better not put any weight on it. I’ll splint it now, then you can cool it in the creek to help with the swelling.”

 

He had to tear a strip off Merlin’s tunic to make it work, which Merlin regretted, but he had to admit he felt better once the bandage was in place, and his foot was resting comfortably in the cold water.

 

“Is that okay?” Arthur asked, looking at him closely. “I have to go and get the fire started while it’s still light, but if you need anything—”

 

“Yeah, it’s fine, thanks,” Merlin said. He lay back and closed his eyes for a moment, not even bothering to pretend he wasn’t in pain anymore. All of his attention seemed to have concentrated in the heel of his foot, where he could feel his ankle throbbing in time to his pulse. It was making him a little sick. “Do what you have to do. I’ll just…” He waved a hand. “Stay here.”

 

To distract himself while Arthur got the fire going, Merlin tried to concentrate on their surroundings. It had been a warm day, fortunately, though the air was beginning to turn chilly now as the sun began to go down. Already the shadows in the ravine were lengthening, the first stars appearing in the sky overhead. He could hear Arthur cursing a little way off, then the tell-tale rasp of sticks rubbing together, and finally the acrid tang of woodsmoke filled the air.

 

“Peaceful, isn’t it.” Merlin jumped: he hadn’t even heard the prince approaching. “It would almost be pretty if we weren’t stuck in the middle of nowhere.”

 

“Sorry.” Merlin shifted a little, craning his neck to see Arthur. “My fault. But you could have gone back without me.”

 

Arthur snorted. “What, and leave you here to fend for yourself? You’re joking. You wouldn’t survive five minutes on your own, even if you weren’t injured. Here, lift your head.”

 

Merlin did as he was told, and Arthur slid the soft leather hunting satchel he’d been carrying into the gap. It was a little awkward, not being either intended or shaped for use as a pillow, but it was better than the hard stone. Merlin squinted suspiciously at Arthur.

 

“You’re being awfully nice to me, you know.”

 

“I can be nice,” Arthur retorted, a mite defensively. “I’m a nice person.”

 

“I know.” Merlin tried to kick him with his good leg, but he was too far out of reach. “I’m trying to say thank you, clotpole.”

 

“Oh.” For a second, Arthur looked almost embarrassed. “Well, you’re welcome. But don’t expect me to make a habit of it, all right?” 

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Merlin said, and grinned.

 

For supper, Arthur skinned and roasted one of the rabbits they’d caught earlier—luckily for them, the brace had fallen to the ground when the horses bolted—then helped Merlin to sit up again so that he could eat his share with his bare fingers. The meat was hot an juicy, and Arthur kept an arm wrapped firmly around Merlin’s waist throughout the meal, letting Merlin lean against him. From anyone else, it might have seemed more practical than affectionate, but Merlin knew Arthur; knew, too, how often he showed his regard the smaller things, disguising it with necessity and bluster as if disclosing his real feelings might cause him to somehow lose face.

 

When they had finished eating, Arthur spread out his cloak on patch of grass and carried Merlin over to it. Merlin briefly objected to being cradled in his arms like a damsel in distress, but the prince commented that he could always carry him like a sack of potatoes if he liked. Merlin did not like, so he subsided grudgingly, although he noticed that Arthur’s manhandling became even gentler at his complaints, and that he deposited Merlin carefully on the side of the cloak that was closest to the fire, making sure he was settled comfortably before lying down himself.

 

“I really am sorry, you know,” Merlin said, after a while. “I know you were in a hurry to get back.”

 

“My father can wait a few more hours for my report,” Arthur said, and when Merlin turned to look at him, he found Arthur lying on his side, eyes fixed on his face. “Some things are more important.” 

 

Merlin flushed. “I doubt your father would agree.”

 

“I don’t intend to tell him.” Arthur gave a wry smile, but his face soon settled into seriousness again, the muscles of his throat working as he swallowed. “I thought I’d lost you, for a minute there.”

 

“Arthur…”

 

“I just…” Arthur let out a breath and shook his head. “Try not to throw yourself over any more cliffs in the near future, all right? 

 

Merlin huffed. “I’ll do my best,” he said. He squirmed a little, trying to get comfortable on the hard ground. Arthur had re-bound his ankle earlier, and after a thorough soak in the little stream the pain had subsided to a dull ache, which meant it probably wasn't broken after all, but the various other cuts and bruises he had acquired while rolling down the mountainside were beginning to make themselves felt. 

 

Around the fifth time he repositioned himself, Arthur sat up on his elbows and looked at him. “What are you doing?”

 

“Nothing,” Merlin said, lying still. “Sleeping. What are you doing?”

 

“Entering my second life as a human pincushion, apparently,” Arthur said, deadpan. “What is it? Does your head hurt?”

 

He caught Merlin’s chin in one hand and turned it gently from one side to the other, until Merlin had to push him away.

 

“I’m fine. I’m just…it’s not exactly easy to get comfortable, okay? Even my bed back in Camelot is softer than this.”

 

“Hmm. I see. Well, maybe I can help with that.” Arthur settled down to lie on his back once more, tugging Merlin down with him and arranging him against his chest like it was a pillow. Merlin let himself be tugged and snuggled closer, enjoying the feel of Arthur’s strong body beneath him and the rare chance to be close to the prince without worrying that someone would find out. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

“You don’t need to keep thanking me, you know,” Arthur said, cupping the side of Merlin’s face in a gruffly tender gesture. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t exactly mind taking care of you.”

 

“You don’t?” 

 

“Someone has to do it,” Arthur said. His hand smoothed gently over Merlin’s hair, stroking the dark strands almost idly. “You’re a hazard to yourself, not to mention the rest of the kingdom. It’s my duty to ensure you don’t walk into a wasp nest or trip over a bear, or god knows what kind of disaster might befall us.”

 

Merlin made a disgruntled noise, but it came out more contented than annoyed. Arthur’s hand had moved down to the back of his neck and was kneading the knots out of his shoulders, and Merlin could feel his tension ebbing away as his abused muscles unlocked. It was grossly unfair of Arthur to take advantage of his weakness in such a way, especially since he knew exactly what it did to Merlin when he touched him like that, but somehow Merlin couldn't bring himself to protest.

 

“Does this mean you’re not going to make me work so hard when we get home?” he asked, his voice muffled as he slipped towards sleep.

 

“I never make you work hard,” Arthur said. “You’re just lazy. But I might give you a day off,” he added, as Merlin snorted. “Just the one, mind. I remember someone saying something about needing to rest, when you’re recovering from an injury.”

 

“Not that you listen,” Merlin pointed out, and Arthur poked him.

 

“I’m listening now,” he said. His thumb stroked the line of Merlin’s throat, making him catch his breath on a shiver. “And when we get back, you're going to take all the time you need. All right?”

 

“All right,” Merlin said, soft, and he fell asleep to the sound of Arthur’s heartbeat, steady and reassuring in his ears.


End file.
